Designed to Death Read online

Panic welled up inside of me. The door to the church didn’t open again. Hank and Sierra dropped the Hooligans off and made their escape. I looked over my shoulder, willing and begging for Sierra and Hank or just one of them, to come inside. I didn’t want responsibility for the three rambunctious boys. When I told Sierra to bring her men, I meant with her. Not to leave them with me. Ugh! What had I gotten myself into?

  The boys stopped at the end of the pew where Ted sat. I grinned. I could work with this.

  “Guys, this is Detective Ted. He works in homicide.”

  “You mean dead people.” Glee filled Harold’s voice.

  “Dead people other people made dead.” Henry knelt beside me, facing Ted.

  “Do you have a gun?” Howard went to poke the detective in the side.

  Ted shifted away. If it wasn’t so dark, I’m sure I would’ve seen a glare in Ted’s green eyes.

  “Didn’t your mother teach you not to talk to strangers?” he asked.

  “Yeah. But we don’t listen too good.” Harold made himself comfortable beside Ted.

  “Anyway, you’re a cop. A good guy.” Henry climbed over the pew and dropped onto Ted.

  A grunt was forced out of the man.

  “Dad says we should make friends with the law.” Howard went to the pew behind Ted and stood on it. He reached forward and wrapped his little arms around Ted.

  Ted made a strangling sound. Howard decided to hang from Ted’s neck.

  Darlene dabbed her eye with a tissue. “You are such a wonderful man to take such interest in the Hool...Hank and Sierra’s sons. Imagine bringing them to church with you.”

  “I didn’t...” Words gargled out of Ted.

  “Cool! Will you take us home in your squad car?” Henry asked.

  “With the lights on?” Howard continued to play the role of a necklace.

  “Better without,” Harold said. “Mom might think red flashing lights are a bad thing.”

  “I’d love to photograph this moment.” Darlene heaved out a sigh.

  A brilliant plan popped into my head. “My camera’s in the car. I’ll go get it.”

  I exited the pew from the opposite end where Ted sat. I wasn’t taking a chance he’d grab onto me or send a Hooligan to tackle me as a game of cops and robbers.

  I hurried outside and made a beeline to Hazel’s car. She was holding a flashing and rivet to some kind of reading material. Too bad The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Private Investigating got destroyed by the breaking and entering culprit; I’d have mentioned it was at the library and encouraged Hazel to spend some time reading it. I do believe she was going about it all wrong.

  I knocked on Hazel’s window. She startled. She really needed a new hobby. Spying wasn’t good for her nerves.

  “Darlene, Detective Roget, and the Hooligans are in there. I think there’s some plotting going on.” I skipped over to my car and got inside.

  Hazel plodded toward the church, head lowered like a bull charging.

  Quickly, I pulled forward and onto the main road. Ted would have his hands full between stopping Darlene and Hazel from going at it, and the Hooligans from...well, I’m not sure what those three little boys could concoct in their devious mind, but I knew it would be a doozy.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Thursday morning, Scrap This buzzed with energy. It annoyed me. The beep and boops of the cash register grated on my nerves as Marilyn rang up a large purchase of cardstock. The hushed conversation of customers pricked at my skin. Sierra hummed along to the music that piped in from the stereo in the employee lounge. I gritted my teeth to keep from asking her to stop singing.

  I dropped the cardboard box I held onto the floor. It landed with a resounding thud. I knelt in front of the paper racks, yanked open the box, and ripped off the plastic protecting the pattern paper. The first sheet crinkled over my manhandling.

  Two nights in a row I averaged four hours of sleep. I had no idea how I’d put up with Darlene tonight. I shoved a stack of pattern paper into the correct slot.

  “Customers will demand a discount if the corners are bent.” Marilyn joined me on the floor. “I wish you’d let us help you.”

  “One woman is capable of doing this job.” I grabbed the next design.

  Marilyn gently took it from my hands. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Faith. Stop trying to pretend the breakin didn’t scare you.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Okay. Whatever.” Shaking her head sadly, Marilyn stood.

  I caught hold of her wrist. “It bothers me. I know why they took what they did. I just can’t figure out what they were afraid I’d figure out.”

  “We could help.” Marilyn pointed at herself then Sierra.

  “I don’t want to drag anyone else into this.”

  “I’m asking, you’re not dragging me. Besides, you helped me.” Marilyn smiled.

  I grinned up at her. “I do recall there was a little dragging going on then.”

  She held her right index finger and thumb a few centimeters away from each other. “Tiny bit.”

  I glanced around the store. “Once it’s cleared out some.”

  “And your grandmothers head out for lunch.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ll take care of restocking.” Marilyn shooed up toward the counter. “Why don’t you go look at the new lines coming out? There’s some real beautiful stuff on page twenty-five. I think you’ll really love it.”

  Sounded good. Nothing lifted my spirits like shopping and scrapbooking. For the next hour, Sierra and I oohed and aahed, yes-and-no’ed items. There was one paper that had a very sexy-looking Santa Claus on it. I lifted the catalog, twisting and turning it.

  “I don’t know,” I said. We’d have some customers rushing in to buy, and others coming in to pray for our troubled souls.

  “A few sheets would be good,” Sierra said. “I’d like to request the firefighter and pilot.”

  I wanted the cowboy paper and the matching washi tape.

  I heard my grandmothers walking from the back office toward the shopping area. Good. Soon, I’d see what Sierra and Marilyn thought about the thread I saved from total annihilation.

  “It’s nice,” I said. “More than nice, but I don’t know of a layout it’d work with.”

  Hope and Cheryl hovered behind us.

  “I’d put it in a frame and hang it on my bedroom wall,” Cheryl said. “I’d love looking at it every morning and night.”

  “No embellishments needed for that paper,” Hope said. “That’s what I call a yummy sheet of paper.”

  Heat licked my cheeks. I slapped the catalog onto the counter face down. “Grandmas!”

  Giggling, they linked arms and skipped out of the store. I wondered what it would be like to have a best-friend-forever like Hope and Cheryl found in each other.

  Sierra turned the book back over and jotted down the item number. “I double-dog dare you to put a framed copy in each of their bedrooms.”

  “So, what’s going on?” Marilyn rushed over to the counter.

  The only two customers, a mother and daughter combination, were in the back of the store browsing through our choices of Halloween themed products.

  “I think I know the key to who broke into my house and is trying to implicate me in Belinda’s death...”

  Marilyn and Sierra drew in sharp breaths.

  The customers spun toward us.

  I grabbed the catalog and held it up. “Thinking about adding this Santa to our Christmas collection. Yes or no?”

  The women headed over. Their eyes grew wide.

  The gray-haired older woman fanned her cheeks. “Darling, get me a ream. I know who’s going on the front of my Christmas cards for the red-hat society.”

  “Mother! What will father say?”

  “To send one to his aunt and give her a merry, merry Christmas.”

  The thirty-something-year-old woman blushed and rushed back to the safety of the spooky and creepy Halloween items. “I’m ne
ver taking you shopping again.”

  “And I thought I raised me a liberal girl.” The mom tapped the picture of the nearly naked pilot. “I’d like him also.”

  It had nothing to do with being prudish. There were just some things a gal didn’t want to know her mother, or grandmothers, gushed over. Hot men were one of them. It felt a little weird to be thinking wicked thoughts about the man you’re grandmothers were ogling.

  Once the women became immersed back in the Halloween area, I explained my theory to Sierra and Marilyn.

  “You’re talking about the thread I called you about.” Sierra reached for the flash drive I held.

  Sniped about. I kept the correction in my head and nodded. Sierra opened the document. Marilyn stood behind her and read over her shoulder.

  “This looks like what I read. I can check. I used Hank’s email to send me a copy of it.”

  The three of us put our heads together and compared. After twenty minutes of checking and double-checking we came to the same conclusion. Duplicate.

  “This Little Lamb persona has it in for you,” Marilyn said. “I don’t like it. I’m worried. You should stay with me and the kids.”

  I shook my head. “I think it’s just keyboard bravery.”

  Marilyn opened her mouth.

  “And if it’s not, there’s no way I’m putting your teens in danger by staying at your house.”

  “You can stay with me.” Sierra grinned, but I saw the lick of fear in her eyes. “My boys are more a danger than anyone else. The poor sap will confess to all and anything to get out of their clutches.”

  “I’ll be fine. If I’m that worried about my safety, I’m sure Steve will camp out in my living room.”

  “I’d have him protecting me in the bedroom.” Marilyn waggled her eyebrows at me.

  I did the best thing, ignored the comment and returned the conversation to its intended content. “Whoever Little Lamb is, they’re local.”

  “I don’t have a clue about who it could be.” Sierra tapped her lip with her nail.

  “Me neither.” Marilyn patted my hand. “Sorry. Some big help I am.”

  “This was good. I now know this was the original conversation, and I’m not crazy that Little Lamb has something against me.”

  “The two people at the top of that list are Darlene and Karen,” Marilyn said.

  I would’ve added Leslie except I hadn’t known until after the fact about the internet trash-fest. I scrolled and pointed at the posting times.

  “Darlene posted under her own name. Unless she posted from a laptop and a desktop, there’s no way she could’ve logged in and out so fast.”

  “That leaves Karen.”

  “Why would she be prowling around a scrapbooking board?” I asked.

  “Cause she doesn’t like you, and likes Steve.”

  The customers approached the register. Marilyn went to ring up the women.

  Sierra squinted at the screen. “I know the answer is here but I can’t see it. Ugh.” She pushed away from the computer.

  “Not everyone is talented at finding a hidden meaning.”

  Oliver. I grinned.

  The bell jingled as our customers left.

  “What?” Sierra looked worried.

  “I think I need to show this to our resident email analyzer.” I dug my cell phone from my purse. There were some calls I’d rather not make on the company line.

  “What?”

  “Oliver White. He has this uncanny ability of taking everything in a very literal manner.” I explained about the email I sent and what he told Annette.

  “Perfect.” Marilyn clapped. “I hope he can figure this out.”

  “Shh...” I silenced them when Oliver picked up. “Hi Oliver, this is Faith—”

  “Mr. White,” he responded.

  “Okay, hello Mr. White...”

  Sierra and Marilyn rolled their eyes.

  “I was wondering if you could interpret something for me. You’re the best word guy around.”

  “And what would this document be? Family historical record? Old documents someone else found?” There was a hint of interest in his voice.

  “Not exactly. It’s a conversation I got off a message board. Stuff said about the store.”

  “If this stuff is slanderous or libel in nature, I would make an appointment with an attorney who specializes in those types of cases.”

  “I’m not sure it is. It’s kind of vague. You’re the only person I know who can read words as they are actually written.” I hoped it came across the way I intended.

  “Many people do say that. It’s an inherited skill.”

  Sierra jabbed me, indicating she wanted me to hurry and get a commitment.

  I’m trying. I mouthed. “Could you come over and take a look at it?”

  Clicks sounded in the background. “I can come by tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  Sierra and Marilyn shook their heads.

  “Yes. I have a board meeting tonight, followed by a date which I will not change for you.”

  A date? Oliver dated? Who knew, and who was I to interfere with a blooming romance. “Tomorrow it is. I appreciate it.”

  “I can schedule you in for lunch.”

  “That works. I’ll pick up two of Home Brewed’s specials and have them at the store.”

  “It’s a date, Faith. I have it marked on my calendar.” Oliver ended the call with a chipper “See you tomorrow.”

  I hoped Oliver didn’t consider it a real date. I’d never hear the end of it from my grandmothers. Well, I’d find out tonight. If Oliver thought he and I were having a romantic luncheon, he’d tell his aunt, who’d tell my grandmothers. Maybe Oliver wouldn’t want to be considered a guy who got around.

  Who was I kidding? Oliver would love to be the “hottest” bachelor in town.

  I passed the rest of the afternoon and early evening glancing at the clock and playing HWOI—How Would Oliver Interpret.

  JealousMuch sounded like a random internet person who liked being in the middle of the drama. The bits and pieces they threw came from what Darlene posted that night, and possibly what Darlene posted in the past. Some of those women had long memories and spreadsheets so detailed it’d make the CIA jealous.

  Little Lamb was different. Vicious. The poster said everything in a calculated way. Not accusing, yet laying the groundwork for others to think the absolute worst about a person. Like with me. Everyone in Eden knew the truth about Michael’s murder. As did every scrapbooker interested in our store, it made no sense to accuse me of that crime.

  My eyes kept returning to the phrase “Maybe that too.” Was Little Lamb insinuating I was involved in Belinda submitting those fraudulent layouts or something more sinister? Like her murder. I sucked in a breath.

  Marilyn spun toward me.

  I shoved a finger into my mouth and held up a piece of paper.

  She made a production of shuddering. Anyone who worked with paper knew how much a cut hurt.

  I clicked out of the document, wishing I could just as easily get rid of the thought swirling in my head.

  What if they were laying the groundwork for accusing me of Belinda’s murder? A murder they knew took place before anyone else did. There were only two people in Eden who hated me enough to ruin my life. Karen and Darlene. And one of them had all the evidence of me having been accused before.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  What had I gotten myself into? I plucked at a thread hanging from the black shirt Darlene insisted I wore. The one the exact shade of black as the leggings she also instructed I wear.

  Darlene frowned. “Stop that. My mother spent a lot time working on our outfits.”

  Groaning, I hit the back of my head multiple times on the headrest. “Your mother knows.”

  “Of course she does.” Darlene continued looking straight ahead, hands in the two and ten position, and the speedometer precisely at thirty-five miles per hour.

  At this speed, I could throw myself ou
t the passenger side door and only suffer some minor cuts and bruises.

  Thirty minutes ago, when I opened the door to Darlene’s knocking, my instinct screamed “don’t do it.” I ignored it. Darlene handed me the outfit and said I needed to change into the proper sleuthing apparel, my brain said “Danger! Do not proceed.” I ignored it also. My heart clenched when I grabbed the handle of the car and tugged it opened. I was getting used to ignoring these signs.

  I was one of those too-stupid-to-live women in books my grandmothers and I complained about.

  Darlene switched on the blinker and the click-cluck sounded through the car. If I was going to make a break for it, the time was when she slowed down for the turn. I gripped the handle.

  Then let go of it. Apparently, I had enough sense not to jump out of a moving vehicle. I sighed.

  “Oh come on, it’s not that bad.” Darlene finally looked at me. “You look great. Thinner. Black does wonders for your figure.”

  I wished I was the ninja the outfit portrayed me as. I’d take her out with one chop to the side of her neck.

  Darlene parallel parked between a Jeep and a small sedan across the street from Belinda’s house.

  A loud, rowdy group of people clustered around the house Darlene parked in front of. Music blared and thumped the car.

  How would this help us in not being spotted? Usually, when people decided to sneak into a house, they parked far enough away that their vehicle wouldn’t be spotted and recognized.

  “I think we should find something on the next block.” Somewhere with less people milling about.

  Darlene turned off the engine. “Let’s go.”

  “We don’t want to be caught. Remember? How is this inconspicuous? People here know your car.”

  “Precisely. It’s not unusual for me to visit Belinda. Besides, how can we blend in with the surroundings if we’re carrying evidence down the block?”

  I hated the fact Darlene made a good point. Slinking down the street in the middle of the night with a bag of stuff wouldn’t work in our favor. Halloween was still a week away.

  “You’d better have a good plan if we get caught,” I said. “And it better not be ditching me again.”